"K'atini," a voice comes to him as he wakes up and he relaxes almost immediately at the sound of Mando'a.
Jango tried to speak and choked instead, gentle hands hurrying to help him sit up, a cup pressed against his lips. He took a few sips, knowing that there was no reason to poison him when he was already so week.
Water, just water. And the soft voice, letting him know he'd be okay in fluent Mando'a.
The next time he woke, the voice was back, and the hands, they were gently wiping him down and it felt so nice to just lie there and be taken care of he didn't try to make a noise.
It went on like that, Jango too tired to even open his eyes, for what seemed like days. He felt safe the whole time, as if the person taking care of him--and he was sure it was just one person--was projecting comfort. He hadn't felt like this since...not since before Jaster had died.
Eventually, he could not keep putting off looking at this person, putting a face and name to them in his mind, one that might betray him.
"Hello there," the voice said, and a figure moved into his line of sight.
A human or near-human, masculine, wearing a casual tunic. They helped Jango sit up, drink water, as he had many times before, but this time he was offered food as well. Bland ration bars, what he would expect to find deep in the Republic, not on the Outer Rim world he last remembered being on.
His caretaker chuckled. "I know, they're not great. But it was what I had on the ship that would be easy on your system."
He chewed through as much as he could stomach, knowing he must need the calories, before addressing the tauntaun in the room, as much as he didn't want to. "Who are you?"
"I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi," the name, thankfully or not, meant nothing to Jango. "I was on my way back to the spaceport when I came across you. I brought you back to my ship instead of dropping you at the local hospital because, well, someone running around in full beskar'gam out here probably isn't too fond of the authorities. Might I ask your name? You didn't have any identification on you."
They were smart enough to answer his next questions, at least, even if they just created more. He studied Obi-Wan, the soft fall of their hair, the gentle eyes, the moderately attractive features made all the more interesting by his attitude and smooth Mando'a.
Could he really trust this Obi-Wan? Could he not, when it was clear they had spent a lot of their time, and probably no few resources, on him?
"What do you want me for?"
Fixed up, he'd be a decent enough slave, though past his prime for playing the attractive bodyguard for some sleemo who cared more about impressions than actual safety. But most wouldn't bother. Hell, leaving him stripped down and taking his armor and weapons would be worth about as much as he'd be, anymore.
"...Nothing? I know, it's odd," they gave a wry smile, a look that struck Jango for how perfect it was on his face, "but...something told me I shouldn't just leave you there. Perhaps the Manda called to me."
"Jango," he said, finally. "Jango Fett."
Obi-Wan blinked, frowned, and Jango could see the exact moment that the name registered. "...Truly?"
He barked out a laugh, then stopped with a grimace, realizing he wasn't quite up to that, yet. "It doesn't mean anything, anymore, unless you keep up with bounty hunter news."
"Only vaguely, I'm afraid."
"I wasn't expecting more." He looked himself over, shifting here and there to get a feel for how he's recovering.
A datapad appeared in Obi-Wan's hand, held out to him. "This is all your scans and what I did to heal you up." Jango took it with interest, finding thorough notes. "So you can continue treating yourself."
Jango stared harder at the notes, the proof that the caring hands and words had existed in some way. "Kicking me out so soon?"
"Oh, no! I simply assumed that's what you would want. As opposed to staying here with a stranger."
"Not such a stranger, are you, Obi-Wan? Considering the state you've seen me in?"
He was gifted with a laugh in return, which seemed to brighten the whole room.
Altogether, he stayed for five more days. He thought he wasn't the only one finding reasons for his delay. When he left, he clad himself in beskar'gam that Obi-Wan had expertly cleaned and fixed.
But back in his ship, alone, even the armor didn't bring him comfort. He missed Obi-Wan.
If Jango had been a less talented bounty hunter, he may have never found Obi-Wan again. Yet, he had long ago learned to memorize all the information he could and to find people even after they'd disappeared into the depths of the galaxy.
Finding out that Obi-Wan was a Jedi did not change his mind, not when they had spent weeks together with not a single sign of that wretched culture. Not when he knew that Obi-Wan had known who he was, but had never stopped helping him.
He'd save him, as Obi-Wan had saved him.
